


The Replacement

by menagerie



Series: Annabelle [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Breeding, Butt Plugs, Daddy Kink, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dysfunctional Family, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M, Gaslighting, Humiliation, Impregnation, Incest, Mommy Kink, Parent/Child Incest, Piss Enema, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pussy Spanking, Spanking, Threesome - F/F/M, Uncle/Niece Incest, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, pissing inside
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-09 21:20:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19484257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menagerie/pseuds/menagerie
Summary: A new man is invited to use Annabelle after Uncle Andrew fails to impregnate her.





	The Replacement

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer that this series is a fantasy and none of it should be replicated, ever. This is all deeply unhealthy, improbable, illegal, and at times dangerous. Take care of yourselves and your partner(s) and practice safe/sane/consensual sex and BDSM, please.

Most high school seniors in this day and age don’t spend first period bent, completely naked with their legs spread wide, over their uncle’s desks, but I suppose I’m a unique case.

Unique does not necessarily mean fortunate. For one thing, he makes me _count_ my spanks, and then thank him for each one. Even Mommy doesn’t make me thank her for each individual spank she gives me!

“Thirty-three!” I gasped, gritting my teeth, sweat beading on my forehead as I felt his ruler crack the inside of my thigh. “Thank you, Daddy!”

He’s not really my father, of course. Or… Perhaps he is. I haven’t gotten a straight answer out of him _or_ Mommy. It would sure explain why he and my mother don’t get along very well, despite being siblings and next-door neighbors. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to be a parent; had left her to care for me on her own. Regardless, when it’s just the two of us, he demands that I call him “Daddy.”

Uncle Andrew moved, his shiny oxfords squeaking across the linoleum as he resituated himself and rubbed his wooden ruler along the inside of my other thigh. A second later, I heard the crack of impact long before the sharp, white-hot pain bloomed. “Thirty-four; thank you, Daddy!” I bounced on the balls of my feet and tried to bite back a whine. Uncle Andrew, the principal of my high school, can’t abide whiners.

As the spanks continued, however, I was having a harder and harder time keeping a stiff upper lip. He was really letting me have it today, spanking so viciously that tears had long since made a mess of my face. My hands were going so clammy I’d soon be unable to keep holding on to the opposite edge of his desk, and there were sixteen more spanks to go!  
  
“Hold your pussy lips wide, girl; that naughty little clit needs to be punished, too.”  
  
I whimper into the wood of his desk, but don’t hesitate to obey. Hesitation means a harder punishment; a rougher fuck. It’s the difference between a little pain when I have to sit in my classes, and unbearable agony.  
  
I wiggle my hands between my body and the desk, using my thumbs to open my outer labia, feeling cool air touch the inside of my princess parts.  
  
My uncle wastes no time in teasing me. There’s simply the whoosh of air, and the crack of his ruler on my slit; audible before it’s physical. I yelp before I actually feel the hot, if familiar, pain. “Th-th-thirty-five; thank you, Daddy…”  
  
My next few spanks land inside my pussy; each directly onto my clit. The most embarrassing part is knowing each slap is so loud because my skin there is wet, and only growing wetter. I can’t help it; it’s just what happens every time I get punished there. My hips jerk with each blow. I can never fully contain my shrieks.  
  
For the following six, he allows me to release my lips, where they close over my hot and sore hole and clittie. He waits until they puff up proper before paddling them, too.  
  
I know where the last five spanks will land, and wince in dread as his fingers wedge between the skin of my bottom and the plug that spears it. I wear my plug all the time now, as my uncle tries in increasing frustration to breed me.

Mommy wants me pregnant _before_ I graduate high school this spring. She says girls are often at their most rebellious in the last of their teens; the start of their twenties. She says if I’m bred now, I’ll have a head start, too busy learning the ropes of motherhood to get myself into any scrapes. She only ever wants what’s best for me, so I trust her judgement.

Only, she chose her brother, Uncle Andrew, to be the one to seed a child inside me. It’s just more reliable that way, sticking to family. Family understands, even if they don’t always see eye-to-eye. He knows the way girls need to be treated, and he knows to keep out of it otherwise.

He knows full well he can only push his cock into my pussy when it’s time to cum. Otherwise, my princess parts belong solely to Mommy. And _that_ means, he needs to get close using one of my more public holes. Mainly, my bottom.

I’d been keeping my bottom lubed and plugged for weeks now, for every time he felt ready to come inside my cunt. Bathroom quickies, mostly, though he’d pulled me over a time or two to take a load in the backseat of his Honda. He’s really putting his all into this, and I think I know why: while Mommy isn’t interested in repairing bridges, _he_ is. He wants to get back in her good graces, one way or another.  
  
He wiggles and squirms the stainless steel plug out of my bottom until it relents with a pop, then sets it on its base on his desk. He commands I reach behind myself and hold my cheeks open, feeling the AC hit my gaping, lubed hole in chilly force.  
  
“Do you know why you’re being punished, Annabelle?”  
  
“Yes, Daddy. I was late. You said you wanted to see me at six, sharp.”  
  
“And what time did you get here?”  
  
“A quarter to seven. We didn’t have time to breed before class began.”  
  
Without warning, his ruler strikes me directly on the spread anus. Caught unprepared, my scream was full. I had a moment of panic wondering if the office staff just outside the room could hear me, but even with that in mind, I was too well trained not to gasp a “Forty-six; thank you, Daddy!” on the force of my exhale.  
  
“Which means you have to miss first period just to be spanked and bred.” He punctuates this with another anus-searing strike. I count it, even as tears dribble off my cheeks and onto his desk. This is just one of the many reasons I don’t wear makeup. “Do you want to be a stupid girl, Annabelle?”

“No, Daddy.”  
  
Spanks forty-eight and forty-nine are delivered and subsequently thanked.  
  
He plants his heavy hand in the small of my back, speaking so that his coffee-scented breath hits the back of my neck. “Smart girls make it on time to class; all the way up to graduation day. Smart girls wake up in time to walk to school, even if their Mommies can’t drive them anymore.”  
  
I winced. Mommy had moved her hours to opening shift at the diner, so she could be with me at nighttime. I’ve been adjusting slowly to life without her to wake me up and feed me breakfast and get me to school on time. “Yes, Daddy.”  
  
“What will you do tomorrow?”  
  
“I’ll be on time for my breeding before school starts, Daddy.”  
  
He delivered a savagely hard smack to my bottom hole; one that had me heaving a few noisy sobs, nausea churning my gut, before managing a “Fifty, Daddy. Thank you for my punishment.”  
  
He released me and allowed me to sit up, but the tears didn’t stop coming. They streamed down my face, curving down my jaw and hitting my collarbones, my breasts. I must’ve left quite a mess on his desk.  
  
“Lay down on your back, Annabelle,” my uncle commanded. “Get that pussy up and ready.”  
  
To do so, I had to first sit on his desk, which was torture after the lengthy spanking I’d just endured. My red-hot bottom screamed out at the contact with cold, smooth wood. Distributing my weight as I laid down helped some, but not completely.  
  
It didn’t surprise me any when my uncle unzipped his trousers, pulled his cock out, and gave it a few jerks before pushing into my lubed bottom, still raw and protesting after its punishment. He didn’t slow down, or pay any mind to my feelings; simply used me as a hole to fuck as he worked up a thick load of cum.  
  
He gripped my breasts like horse’s reins as he pumped, his flabby tummy hitting my thighs each time we collided. My nipples ached when he squeezed and pinched them, but I didn’t say a word. We were doing our duty; nothing more.  
  
Tipping my head back, I looked at the things on his desk; things he’d displaced so our activities wouldn't break them. There was a framed photo of my Mommy and I at the wharf, ice cream cones in hand, smiling hugely before the waves.  
  
I focused on Mommy’s face as my uncle huffed and puffed and panted, hoping and praying that this time his seed would take effect; that this time, when I went potty on a little stick, it would show a pink plus-sign instead of a blue minus-sign.  
  
When my uncle made that little hitching sound in his throat that meant he was close, I spread my knees wider apart. He pulled out of my bottom and plunged into my pussy instead, coming with a high little moan. “Oh, God,” he breathed as he shuddered, squashing me flat to his desk, chest to chest as his hot cum flooded my pussy. _“Katherine…”_

Katherine is Mommy’s name.  
  
If Uncle Andrew really did get Mommy pregnant with me, then why can’t he make _me_ pregnant? Is there something wrong with me, and not him?  
  
Uncle Andrew touched three fingers to my clittie, rubbing it in a harsh circle. I appreciated the gesture, but quickly took over for him, my legs straight in the air to keep his seed inside me. It was faster if I made myself cum, and Mommy insisted an orgasm made it more likely for the pregnancy to take. Maybe that was just an old wive’s tale, but...  
  
I rubbed myself off as quickly as I could, imagining the last time Mommy sat on my face until I came, soaking my own fingers. Funny; Uncle Andrew and I both called the same woman’s name when we finished.

By the time I stood, re-inserted the plug into my bottom, and dressed in my outfit for the day, he was already wiping down his desk, fixing his outfit, combing his thinning hair, and getting back to work. It was like nothing at all had happened; like his spunk wasn’t staining the crotch of my panties at that very moment. 

Just as I was zipping my pants up, the door flew open, and in strode a young man I’d never seen before. He was just shy of six feet tall; maybe twenty-five years old. He had deeply tanned skin that spoke more to ancestry than expensive sunny vacations; floppy brown hair; some scruff around his jaw and chin; and excited, boyish eyes. He wore loose, casual clothes, but around his neck dangled a lanyard with an official staff badge.  
  
“Principal Kelley!” he exclaimed as he barged in. “You won’t _believe_ what they were saying in the staff room. Why don’t you come down and have a piece of--”  
  
His eyes landed on me, barefoot, hair dishevelled; then over to my uncle, who looked sweaty and rumpled. As fresh air from the main office blew in, I realized how much we’d stunk the room up with musk. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to deduce what we’d been doing in here.  
  
“-- Cake,” he finished lamely. “For… Marcy’s birthday.”  
  
My uncle regarded the intruder calmly. “Mr. Marker,” he said in his soft ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ voice. “We’ve talked about knocking before.”  
  
“I… yeah…” the young employee had a funny look on his face as he regarded me. I hoped I hadn’t mis-buttoned my shirt. When he looked again at my uncle, I tried to discreetly fix my hair. “Who’s this?”  
  
“This is my niece, Annabelle Smith. Annabelle, this is Ms. Aberdeen’s new student teacher, Joseph Marker.”  
  
If there’s anything that can be said for my family, we really are unflappable in the face of disaster. “Hello, Mr. Marker,” I greeted with my warmest smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”  
  
“Joe. Please.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m just a student teacher. No need to be so formal.”

My uncle frowned. He didn’t much care for any informality, ever. Maybe I was still feeling salty about the spanking -- he didn’t _have_ to hit my clittie so hard it hurt to cum -- because it just made me smile wider. “Joe.”

There was an awkward staring contest between the three of us before Uncle Andrew withdrew a blue envelope from his desk and held it out to Joe. “Why don’t you bring this to Ms. Aberdeen?” he asked. “It’s her birthday card. I won’t be by for cake, but I do like my staff to know I care.”  
  
Joe takes the card, looking down at it, looking back up at us. We give him twin innocent smiles. Already I see in his eyes that he’s trying to come up with any other explanation than what he knows to be true. We’re too “normal” for _that!_ The mind believes what it wants to believe.  
  
“Annabelle, why don’t you walk Joe back to Marcy -- I mean, Ms. Aberdeen’s -- classroom?” my uncle offers. “Second period is about to begin. Maybe she’ll give you some cake.” He scrawls me a hall pass. I take it with a smile, then cross to the door and hold it open for the student teacher.  
  
Still looking perplexed, Joe follows me into the hallway. I shut the door behind me, and do my very best not to limp as we walk out of the front office and into the hallway. It’s not easy work -- my bottom has just been fucked, my pussy is leaking my uncle’s cum, and I’ve been spanked fifty times with a ruler -- but I’ve had a lot of practice. If I keep smiling, he might not even notice my puffy eyes.

“So,” I said brightly as we walked past classrooms down a near-empty hallway. “New student teacher, huh?”  
  
“Yeah,” Joe agreed. “It’s awful timing. It’s not even a full semester, so it won’t actually count as a grade, but the waiting lists to good schools are pretty long, and if I start now, then _next_ year--”  
  
He seems to realize who he’s talking to. He glanced guiltily my way. "Sorry. This must be pretty boring for you."

"No," I replied pleasantly. "It really isn't... I'm graduating this spring, so I'm gonna have to look into college plans, myself. It's nice to talk to someone who's actually living it."

It was important to put the distinction in; to insist we were on the same side, regardless of how I actually felt about him.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye; really seemed to take me in; eyes travelling from my head to my toes. They lingered a little too long around my collarbones, and I resisted the urge to fiddle with my shirt, fearing wrinkles; misaligned buttons; God forbid, a stain.

His eyes drifted lower. My self consciousness remained, but a new curiosity rose. Was he...?

"Graduating, huh?" he asked. "One of those seventeen-year-old grads?"

"Oh, no," I shook my head. "My birthday was last month. I feel kinda bad for the 17-grads, actually; they have to go off to college when they can't even buy smokes."

 _Smokes._ Had I ever called cigarettes that before in my life? Maybe I was trying too hard to come across as a 'normal teen.'

We resumed walking. He snuck a few glances at me as we went. "Any after-graduation plans?"

"Oh, this and that," I lied easily enough. "My mom's helping me apply to local universities."

As Aunt Darla would say, "Bull and Shit." There was no university in my future; only babies, maybe a husband, and a lifetime of working at the same diner Mommy and Aunt Darla worked at. That had already been decided.

I tried not to feel too gloomy about that. How lucky was I? How many other people in my year knew what their lives would become? How many of them would stumble and make stupid mistakes; die of car accidents or overdoses? Have relationships collapse, lose their homes, their jobs, get their hearts broken?

Not me. My future was a clean, even path before me with no wavers or deviation. It was a simple life, and I'd take it with grace.

"That's nice of her."

"Yep. She's the best!"

Joe held a door open for me, and I blinked in surprise. That was the staff room door; why would I--

"Hey, Joe!" a few teachers, on their off hour, called. "Hi, Annabelle!" said Ms. Aberdeen.

I greeted them with a wave. There was a half-eaten chocolate cake on the table. One of the teachers carved me a piece as Joe handed over her birthday card.

"Playing hookie?" Ms. Aberdeen asked me with a wink as I took a small bite of cake. I was one of the good kids; straight-A's, travelling orchestra, hardly any absences, and I was graduating soon; so she was allowed to joke around with me.

I smiled and shook my head no. "Uncle Andrew needed my help in the office. Mr. Fetsco said he was cool with it."

"Aww. You're so good to Principal Kelley."

I forced my smile to brighten. They had no idea...

* * *

I next saw Joe when I was walking home from school.

I could've ridden the bus, I guess, but seniors usually didn't. It was a matter of pride.

Then again, most seniors also had their own cars, or at least friends who had cars. We didn't have the money for a car (a single parent living in her deceased parents’ house, earning a living at a diner, doesn't have much cash to spare), and I didn't have any friends, period.

I'd tried to make friends when I was younger, but I was different, even if nobody else could figure out why, and most people thought Mommy was weird. She got jealous if I brought anyone over, and refused to let me visit other families. Nobody had ever been mean to me, exactly, but it was like they'd unanimously decided to leave me alone. Boys never asked me to dances. Girls never invited me to their houses.

That was fine, I guess. Easier that way. 

I was starting to regret my anti-bus pride, however. Mrs. Ochoa had been giving away the leafy plants she decorated her classroom with in preparation for her retirement, and I couldn't bare to see the largest go into the trash, so I carried two heavy porcelain pots full of trailing green vines; so big I could scarcely see over the tops.

They were heavy, and my arms were sweating. It'd be a miracle if I made it all the way home without dropping one or both and breaking my feet.

Stopping at a crosswalk, I attempted to balance one on my hip, overbalanced, and went sprawling into the road. A squeal of brakes had me freezing in place, certain I was about to die.

"What the fuck!" a man's voice shouted. "Jesus, kid, give me a heart attack!"

He parked his car, slammed the door, and stomped over to me, grabbing under my armpits to drag me to my feet.

I'd spilled potting soil all down my front, and he gave me a shake to dislodge it, startling when he saw my face. "Annabelle?"

That floppy brown hair. Those boyish eyes. "Joe?"

His car was a junky Corolla Frankensteined together out of a ton of different car parts. One of the tail lights was missing, and the whole thing was filthy. The front left tire had stopped a mere foot from where my head had been.

I gave a full-bodied shudder just thinking about it.

"Your knee's bleeding," Joe told me. I looked down at the ripped leg of my pants; at the staining spread of red.

"Oh," I said, my voice a little too high.

He bent to gather up my flower pots. The plants themselves didn't seem too damaged. Add a little more dirt, pat things down, and they'd be okay.

"Want a ride home?" he asked, probably feeling guilty about nearly killing one of his students

I didn't know if I'd be able to walk. I felt too shaky. I gave a nod and let him load me and the plants into the Corolla.

I gave him instructions all the way to my house; nearly an hour-long walk from the school that now took scarcely ten minutes, what with the way he was speeding.

He parked in our weedy driveway, checking out our rattly old single-story. It wasn't much, but it was home, and I didn't care for strangers judging it... Though, going by the state of his car, maybe he didn't have room to judge anyway.

He got out when I did, taking both pots without a word, and followed me to the door.

I felt a pang of anxiety -- men were definitely not allowed in the house when Mommy wasn't home -- but what was I gonna do, snatch the pots out of his arms and tell him to go away?

I fished my keys from my bag and unlocked the screen door, then the front door. If he had any opinion on my three different keys for the eight locks combined on both of those doors, he kept it to himself.

"Where do you want these?" he asked, indicating the plants, which he carried so easily under each arm. He was big enough to make the furniture of the living room -- a battered old couch, recliner, and television -- look practically petite. His feet left enormous indents in the carpet.

Numbly, I pointed to the patio outside sliding glass doors that led to our postage-stamp sized backyard; the one our yorkie, Maxie, had lived for all sixteen years of her life. Her toys and things were still out there, in case we ever decided to get another dog.

While he opened the door and set things up on the patio, I tended to my knee at the kitchen sink, washing the blood and gravel off, dabbing on antibiotics, and applying band-aids. The oversized plug imbedded deep within my bottom shifted uncomfortably as I rested my knee on the counter.

Joe shut the door and walked back past me into the living room, where I heard him sit on the recliner. What was I supposed to do now; offer him a glass of water? We didn't ever have guests, aside from Auntie Darla, their good friend Karen, and sometimes Uncle Andrew. I didn't know the proper etiquette for handling this.

I opened my mouth to ask him, but he beat me to it, saying, "Annabelle, is this a picture of you?"

My insides froze, because I knew exactly what picture he was talking about without even having to look. It could only be one picture, taken on Auntie Darla’s polaroid camera and framed on our side-table for any guest to see.

It featured my red bottom, thighs, and spread pussy after having been thoroughly spanked and fucked on my eighteenth birthday. A sheet of newspaper taped to my butt showcased the date, so any law enforcement examining said image would know it was not an indecent picture of a minor.

Inside my bottom was a plug, much like the one I wore now, and inside my pussy was a rabbit vibrator set to the highest volume. My muscles were tense, shining with sweat. I’d experienced one of many orgasms that day just when Auntie Darla took the shot, immortalizing it forever.

And now Joe, practically a stranger, was looking at that extremely personal moment as though he had any right to it. “Annabelle?” he repeated.

What could I say; that no, it wasn’t, when it so clearly was? How was I to explain why there was a framed photo of me, so submissive and debased, framed and displayed right in my family room?

“That’s private,” I replied, my voice barely a hoarse whisper.

“Not _very_ private,” was Joe’s reply. The recliner springs squeaked as he stood, slowly walking towards the kitchen where I remained, taking my knee off the counter. “Looks like you wanted the world to see.”

I didn’t know what to do but freeze, staring like a fawn in headlights as the big man cornered me in the kitchen, all the boyish merriment gone from his face. He was a man, and he was bigger than me, and I’d never been in a situation like this before. My throat went dry.

“I’m beginning to think you’re a real whore, Annabelle,” he said softly, reaching for me. I flinched when his knuckles touched my face, gently tipping my head back to look up into his eyes. “You act like a nice girl, but I’ve already seen your pussy. Would a real nice girl act like that?”

Before I could say anything, he had me by the waist, spinning me around and shoving my stomach into the rim of the kitchen sink, which I bent in half over. He fumbled with the belt, the buckles of my pants.  
  
“No… please…” I managed, as the student teacher forced my pants open and shoved them down until they pooled around my ankles, then made quick work of my panties, too. He had to see how bruised my bottom was from all the many spankings I endured… There was a reason I always hid in bathroom stalls while changing for gym class. “Don’t do this, Joe!”

He stopped a second later and gave something between my cheeks a tap -- the base of the stainless steel plug still deep inside my bottom. He huffed an incredulous laugh. “The fuck is this?! You’ve just been plugged up all day? What for, so your pervert uncle could fuck your little asshole whenever he feels like it?”

I whimpered. Hid my face in my arms as he grabbed hold of the plug and started working it out of my body. “Who took that picture of you; your dad? Your mom?” He was none too gentle as he forced the plug out. The lube had dried throughout the day, save for after I reapplied some during lunch, and the stretch brought tears to my eyes. “Your family is pretty fucked up, huh?”

The plug gave way with a pop. It almost disguised the sound of Mommy’s approaching footsteps; the click as she turned the safety off the Smith & Wesson she kept behind the fridge.  
  
“Get your hands off my daughter,” she commanded in a low, intense voice. Joe froze. His hands rose, dropping the plug with a clatter, and he obeyed Mommy’s orders when she made him step away from me. Breathing a sigh of relief, I slumped over the sink, my eyes closed. I knew her shift at the diner was ending soon; she always rushed home to be with me at the end of the day. It was just a matter of time.  
  
"Whoa." Joe holds both hands up, fingers spread, like people do in the movies. I knew Mommy _had_ that old Smith & Wesson, but I'd never seen her load, clean, or use it. Did she even know _how_ to use it?

It couldn't be very hard at this close range, could it? Just point and click, right? I didn't want to see that. I didn't want to see any of this! I just wanted out of this whole awful situation.

"Ma'am," Joe said, trying for his boyish charm; a flick of his hair, a warm smile. "I think this is all a misunderstanding. Why don't you put that down, and we'll talk--"

"I can only think of one explanation for you bending over my half-naked, teenage daughter, and it's not one I like," Mommy snarls, finger flexing on the trigger. My eyes focus on it, as do Joe's. "How about I keep holding this, and we 'talk' anyway?"

I realize I don't have to keep standing around with my bottom and pussy exposed and quickly fix my clothes, straightening and turning around to face them both properly. To my surprise, Mommy is glaring directly at me.

"Annabelle, who is this man?" she asks.

"Um..." I stammer, tongue-tied. "Uh... He's... He's Ms. Aberdeen's new student teacher. Joseph..." Joseph what?! My mind is so blank I can't even remember his last name.

"Joseph Marker, ma'am," Joe cuts in smoothly.

"Jenna Marker's boy?" Mommy knows everyone in town from her work at the diner.

Joe winces, undoubtedly uncomfortable at the reminder of his family; that his family might be contacted, told of today's incident. "Yes, ma'am."

"Hm. You always were a good-for-nothing. I'm shocked my idiot brother let you work at his _school."_

There's genuine pain in Joe's eyes when he winces again, but how can I feel sorry for him when I agree with what Mommy is saying?

"It's just..." he tries to excuse himself. "I took Annabelle home with good intentions, I promise." He explains what happened at the crosswalk. Mommy looks to me, and I nod, always a stickler for the truth when it comes to her.

"It was when I saw the picture, ma'am, that I lost my cool a little."

"What picture?" she spits, before she realizes he can only mean one thing. For just a moment, her confidence wavers. Then it slams right back into place. “So you see a juicy steak on someone’s plate and you just try to steal it for yourself, is that it? I’d’ve thought Jenna would’ve taught you better manners.”

For a moment, he looks truly abashed. I think that’s when Mommy’s mind changes. She flicks the safety back on her pistol. Stores it away. “Come with me,” she commands. “Both of you.”  
  
We glance at each other, wary and uncertain, but Mommy is already turning her back on us, stalking purposefully down the hallway. Because I don’t want to be left alone with Joe, I’m hot on Mommy’s heels.  
  
“Make him go away, Mommy,” I plead, but she only glares at me.  
  
“Don’t think you’re above punishment, Annabelle Marie. You let a man into my house when I wasn’t home?! Stupid girl! You deserve what almost happened.”  
  
I’m so numb with shock that my feet stop moving, and Joe knocks into my back, nearly sending us both sprawling. I yelp and fling myself after Mommy, ending up in our bathroom, where she’s opening the glass shower door and seating herself on one of the two indents in the wall; the ones a person can sit on while she shaves her legs.

Somehow, I doubt when Joseph Marker woke up this morning, he thought he’d nearly run a student over, give her a ride home, attempt to rape her in her kitchen, have her mother point a gun at him, and wind up standing in her shower. He probably thinks we’re about to murder him.

He looks around uncertainly. When Mommy points at the unoccupied seat, he meekly sits. Then she says, “I think you need to give my daughter a spanking.”  
  
“What?!” The kaleidoscope of Joe’s emotions playing across his face is a sight to behold. Shock, disbelief, uncertainty, hope… And, when Mommy’s expression remains calm, a growing, lustful desire.  
  
“I think Annabelle deserves a spanking, don’t you?” Mommy repeats, waiting to see if he’ll get with the program “Perhaps my discipline is growing ineffective. Would you do the honors?”  
  
Joseph pretended to think about it, grinning a little, before snatching my hand; throwing me over his lap.  
  
“Oh, no.” Mama protested before his hand could land. “Annabelle is _always_ spanked on the bare. She doesn’t get to wear a single stitch of clothing while she’s being punished or bred. Clothing and privacy are a privilege, and by breaking my rules, she loses it.”  
  
Joe sounded like Christmas had come early. “For _real?”_ He asked eagerly, loosening his grip so I could again stand up. I didn’t look anywhere near him, my arms folded, my scowl on the far wall. He recovers from his surprise fast, though. “Well, Annabelle? Do as your mother says.”  
  
I don’t want to, but where is the good in arguing? For the second time that day I lost my blouse, my slacks; draping them over the metal frame of the shower door.  
  
My socks are next to go, and my undershirt. Joe watches with arched eyebrows as I reach behind myself to unclasp my bra, avoiding his eyes as I try nonchalantly to set it aside. So long as I don’t give him the satisfaction of my shame; I act like I’m undressing in the locker room before gym as I step out of my panties and pretend I don’t feel his eyes on me. Like I’m not standing naked for a stranger.  
  
“Show Joseph your pussy!” Mommy says, startling me out of my delusion. I look wide-eyed at her, and she inclines her head towards him. “Can’t you tell? He wants a good look! Why do you think he was getting you naked?” 

“Yes, Mommy,” I agreed meekly, all the fight sapped out of me by my need to obey. I opened my knees until I felt the cool bathroom air touch my shaved princess parts. I felt Joe’s eyes glued to them, staring as if he had any right to look at me there. I grit my teeth and fought the urge to snap my thighs closed again.

“Wow, Ms. Smith!” Joe said with a wide grin splitting his face in two. I can’t believe I ever thought he was a nice man! “She’s got a perfect peach, alright. Look at that, all shaved smooth. Some chicks have labia that pokes out and flaps around, but she looks like a girl in a porno!”

I could tell Mommy was pleased by his compliments. Her grip on my arm loosened, and she sat back on her seat. “She gets it from her mother,” Mommy said, preening, and for a moment I thought Joe’s eyes really were gonna pop as he quickly looked at Mommy’s Mona Lisa-esque smile. 

“No kidding?”

Mommy smiled, but didn’t confirm or deny. “Now show him your clit,” she demanded, and I felt hot anger sizzle in my gut. What; as though it wasn’t enough to show him this much?! She just wanted more indirect compliments, didn’t she?

Still, after already being reprimanded, I didn’t dare dawdle. With my thumbs, I opened up my princess parts, giving Joe an unobstructed view of my clittie; my urethra; my vagina. He could see it all-- my every secret laid bare. And for a man who had no more honor than a python! It made me want to scream.

His eyes travelled me hungrily. “Her clit is adorable,” he purred. “And that tight little hole… That’d make any man need to fill it up with his cream, whether she liked it or not.”

“Mmm…” Mommy’s smile grows from Mona Lisa to crocodile. “Great minds think alike. Annabelle, it’s time for your spanking.”

Joseph sits back, eyebrows arched, arms up. Seething, I again lay over his lap. He spread my legs, working a thigh between both of mine. Mommy smiled appreciatively. “I see you’ve punished naughty girls before.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am. When they start rutting your thigh like a horny little cat in heat while they’re being spanked, you know you’ve got a real whore on your hands. Nothing can be done for that, I’m afraid.”  
  
Mommy’s smile grew a little wicked. “Oh, I’m afraid Annabelle is the _worst_ sort of slut. I used to tie her hands down every night so she wouldn’t rub her princess parts like an animal the second the lights went out. Some days I thought I’d have to have her clittie removed completely so she’d learn to be more obedient...”

“Hmm… That’s really something. Hopefully, she can still be taught to behave.” Joe gripped the back of my neck with one hand, and brought his free hand down hard on my bottom; so hard it drove my cunnie down into his knee. **WHAP!**

“Owie…” I moaned, squirming. That had been way too hard for a warm-up spank!

As it turned out, Joe didn’t believe in warm-ups. His method was just to beat hard, fast, and long all over my bottom, never giving me a moment to recover. I was gasping, panting, and, yes, forced by the impact of his hand, grinding my pussy again and again on the bumpy plane of his knee. I didn’t even realize it’d started to tingle pleasantly until he stopped.  
  
“See this?” he asked me, holding me down by the small of my back. “You’re getting my jeans all wet.”  
  
I blinked. I wasn’t crying _that_ hard--  
  
He gave my labia a pinch, and I moaned, filled with sudden understanding. I was leaking all over him; dribbling hard! It wasn’t like I could _help_ it; it was simple physics!  
  
He wiggled his knee, rubbing against my clittie again. This time, I felt the friction; almost enough to make me moan. “Get up, slut,” he ordered, and I stood on shaky legs with my hands down at my sides, head hanging, bottom throbbing. “Kneel on the floor. Hands and knees, your ass towards me.”  
  
I glanced at Mommy, waiting for her to take over. Just because she’d allowed him to spank me didn’t mean he had carte blanche to do whatever he wanted, right?  
  
But she only watched me calmly, her eyes green as a cat’s, flickering with interest. “Do what Joseph says, Annabelle,” Mommy said sharply, and then I had no choice _but_ to kneel on her shower floor, my holes once again exposed for Joe’s inspection.  
  
He bent, and his hands squeezed my aching bottom a second later, causing me to hiss. “Mm,” he said appreciatively. “That’s a cute red butt you’ve got there.” He rubbed a finger around the clenched rim of my hole.  
  
“Annabelle, have you had an enema today?” Mommy asked, and my face flamed anew. This was definitely not something I wished to discuss in front of an outsider! But Mommy had asked me directly…  
  
“Not since before school,” I confessed. “I had one for Uncle Andrew’s breeding.”  
  
“Mm. So you’re _not_ prepared to be fucked.”  
  
This caught Joe’s attention. “Fucked?”  
  
“I was going to offer you use of her holes, since you’ve helped me so much by punishing her. But if she’s dirty--”  
  
“I’ll clean her out!” he interrupted, sounding all too eager. “Really, ma’am? I can fuck your daughter right here, right now? Right in front of you?”  
  
“Hard work begets rewards. Of course you may. I can’t wait to watch.”  
  
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing! She was just going to pimp me out to some random student teacher, my would-be rapist, without my permission?! It made me want to scream! I couldn’t remember ever being so tempted to argue with Mommy before. I’d always trusted her to do what was best for me but…  
  
… Unless this _was_ some sort of test. Was she testing me, to see if I could be a good girl still now that I was eighteen? It made perfect sense. Of course she would. She was so afraid of my becoming rebellious and naughty…

Well. I’d just have to show her I could pass any test she threw out, no matter how distasteful. I remained still and stoic as Joe continued touching my bottom.

“Joseph,” Mommy began consideringly. “How is your bladder? Do you need to use the toilet?”  
  
He again seemed caught off guard by the question, but then seemed to consider it. “I… I guess I kinda have to go, but it’s no hurry or anything…”  
  
“Why don’t you go inside Annabelle’s bottom?” Mommy offered. “Two birds, one stone. It’ll rinse her insides, and it’ll take care of your problem. Then, well, there’ll be no need to stop or wait! It’s perfect.”

My jaw nearly hit the floor. Against my thigh, Joe’s erection twitched.  
  
There was a long silence. “Did I hear you right?” Joe asked carefully. “You seriously did _not_ just ask me to piss up your kid’s asshole.”  
  
“I seriously did.”  
  
“But that’s-- That’s…”  
  
Whatever it was, it seemed Joe didn’t have the words for it. He floundered and fumbled, and then simply unzipped his pants, taking out his cock. I could tell by the look on Mommy’s face that she approved of the way it looked, which meant it was probably circumcised and on the bigger end of the spectrum.  
  
This last bit was confirmed when he touched it to my anus. “Um,” he began awkwardly. “Lube?”  
  
Mommy handed him a bottle from next to her shampoo. He took it; snapped the cap off. A second later, cold goo dripped onto us; enough to ease the passage as he slid the mushroom head of his cock into my ass.

He stood still for a long moment, the head of his prick just piercing my hole. I heard him take several slow, deep breaths through his nose. Unused to someone just waiting in the entrance like that, my hole fluttered around him, clenching and releasing.

“Not so easy to go when you’re hard, is it?” Mommy asked sympathetically. “Take your time.”

“No, ma’am,” Joe agreed sheepishly. And, “Thank you, ma’am.” His fingers flexed on my hips.

Finally, after a solid minute of waiting, I felt it; felt hot wet heat flooding my insides as Joe let go and pissed directly into my bottom; no tube or bag or funnel; just piss, straight from the source. I whimpered, and he pushed forward a few centimeters, entering me deeper. His hands slid from my hips to my thighs, prying my legs apart as he drew forward, washing me out.

My face burned at the shame of it all. There my Mommy sat, legs crossed, expression stern, watching the young and handsome student teacher turn my bottom into his own personal urinal. I hung my head in shame, feeling like a dirtied, withered flower as Joe emptied his bladder inside me.

It seemed to take forever until he finished with a satisfied sigh, giving my bottom an affectionate slap. Then he started moving, slowly at first, but then with more resolve, pushing deeper inside of me and then pulling out. His dangling testicles softly hit my leg with every swing.

“That’s right,” Mommy encouraged. “You’ve earned your reward. By all means; breed that tushy. That’s what it’s there for. She exists to be used.”

He did. He gripped my hips hard and really let me have it, drilling my hole with a series of pleased, staccato grunts. The piss he’d left inside my body sloshed sickly, some spurting out with every thrust of his prick. He reached down to squeeze a handful of my swollen bottom, then gave it a sharp tap to make it jiggle.

“You like that, Annabelle?” he asked breathlessly. I could hear the grin in his voice. “Dirty little slut...”

I didn’t answer him. I didn’t have to. He wasn’t my Mommy or my auntie. He wasn’t even my uncle! I didn’t owe him a second of my attention. I just had to endure his fucking until he was done, and then…

“I’ve changed my mind,” Mommy declared. “Let’s move things to the bedroom.”  
  
Joe seemed reluctant to pull out, but he probably didn’t want to cross Mommy. She ran the show around here, and we were just along for the ride. Gripping the base of his cock, he pulled out of me, then bent down for my hand.  
  
I ignored it and stood on my own, wincing when Joe’s piss drained out of my butt and onto the shower floor, limping out of the bathroom and down the hall to Mommy’s room, always tidy but never meticulously so. The bed was made, but rumpled. The clutter was organized, but still present.  
  
Mommy followed us into the room. “Annabelle,” she commanded. “Lay on your side facing the chair. Now.”

  
I climbed onto her bed and did as asked, looking towards the leather chair we’d picked up off the curb once. Mommy used it for those nights when her arthritis grew so bad she was no longer comfortable laying down flat.

“Joseph?” Mommy told my tormentor as she settled in her chair. Joe stood uncertainly in the doorway watching us. “Because you’ve been so good at following orders, I’m giving you conditional permission to fuck and cum inside my daughter’s pussy.”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline. “For real?”

“Yes. I’m not satisfied with our attempts to breed her with her uncle. Perhaps the seed is bad. We’ll try with yours a few times, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll see a gynecologist and a fertility specialist. But for now…”

Joseph nearly tripped over his own feet as he came to stand between us. I was gawking at mom, horrified anew, and a little scared at all my uncertainty. “But Mommy!” I protested. _“You’re_ the only one who gets to use my princess parts! That’s _your_ special hole!”

“And now I’m giving that permission to him,” she replied serenely. “It had to happen sometime, Annie-girl. Don’t you prefer it happening while I’m right here, watching?  
  
I didn’t like this at all! I didn’t want to be a man’s plaything; I wanted to be _her_ plaything! Unbelievably, I could feel tears gathering in my eyes.  
  
“Will it make you happy, Mommy?” I asked, feeling very little and very sad, my lips puffing out in a pout.  
  
“Yes,” she agreed firmly, not moved at all by my display. “You’re going to stay right where you are and take everything Joseph gives you.”  
  
I didn’t hear the approach of his bare feet on the carpet, so his hand landing on my hip made him jump. I heard an eager slap of skin on skin as he pumped his cock in his hand, and knew my wet pussy lips were still exposed through my clenched thighs. He ran the dewy head of his cock up and down the seam, then started to push inwards.  
  
Instinctively, I clenched my thighs and internal muscles all the harder, attempting to keep him out. The man had pissed in my bottom mere minutes ago, and now he wanted to fuck my pussy! 

Mommy retaliated by sharply slapping my face, causing me to gasp, causing my muscles to loosen. Joe took advantage of the moment and sheathed himself inside me in a single movement that brought a cry to my lips. I felt the pulse of his heartbeat between my legs.  
  
“Ooh,” he grunted, breathing in a shaky laugh. “You’re so _tight,_ Annabelle. So hot and wet… I can’t hold myself back.”

“So don’t,” Mommy encouraged, smiling, a mad manic glint in her eyes. “Breed her. Breed my little whore like a fucking dairy cow.”

“She’s already got the tits of one,” Joe grinned, reaching and gripping my breast in his palm, squeezing it like a ripe melon as he plundered my insides. I was still clenched so hard it felt like he’d turn me inside out with every stroke.  
  
“Mm. And soon those pretty tits will be fat with milk for your baby. Can you imagine it, Joseph?”  
  
The thought, or maybe the way Mommy’s voice went all low and husky, made Joe moan; made his hips stutter. He was so _big._ Big and curved, the head of his cock stroking something inside me that made me feel like I had to pee, but not really. The feeling only grew the harder he slammed, until a little coo of a moan was forced out of my throat.  
  
I heard some snaps coming undone and tilted my head, seeing with surprise that Mommy was undoing the front of her uniform. Underneath, she wore a slip and a bra; both of which she quickly lowered the straps of.  
  
Joe and I watched, transfixed, as she brought her breasts, heavy and mature, out to the air, cupping herself, playing with her nipples. “Watching you two fertile kids rut like stray mutts is making me feel all hot,” she admitted, rubbing herself in broad strokes. I longed to touch her smooth, olive skin; to feel it on my lips. “Carry on.”  
  
Joe sped up his thrusts; fucking me at an alarming rate that, before I knew it, had me rolling onto my stomach, raising my hips to meet his thrusts. So long as I kept my focus on Mommy, it felt like it would be alright.  
  
It actually felt pretty good all around. Moans and grunts kept forcing their way out of my throat. My legs clenched and flexed as Joe plastered to me, moving like he wanted to drive me all the way up to the headboard, and didn’t much care how I felt about the matter. He plowed me; made it impossible to think. I wailed like a cat in heat; mindless and pleased. The feeling that I had to pee only grew stronger.  
  
Impatient with my lackluster reciprocating thrusts, he grabbed my hips and dragged me back onto his cock, knocking his hipbones against my butt again and again. The sounds we were making; wet slaps and smacks and sucks-- were so gross; so embarrassing, I couldn’t help but squeak.  
  
My squeak grew into a shriek when he forced two fingers into my bottom, hooking them like he was carrying a six-pack of beer to the door; or like I was the mouth of a trout he’d just caught. My girl parts dribbled and splashed onto the bedcovers, so slippery that his cock was nearly forced out time and again.  
  
“You like that, don’t you, slut?” the student teacher laughed, fucking in earnest now, so hard he was breathless. “Take it, bitch; _take_ this fat cock!”  
  
Mommy raised her legs up, her lovely thick thighs dimpling, parting her knees. She’d pushed the crotch of her panties to the side as she slowly fingered herself, watching us with hungry eyes. Every now and again her thumb rolled circles around her clittie, but for the most part she abstained. I licked my lips, watching her juices soak between her fingers on each thrust of her hand.  
  
“Mommy,” I pled. “Let me suck you, please; I want your princess parts in my mouth. I need it, Mommy; _please!”_  
  
Joe pulled all the way out of my pussy and instead plunged into my bottom for several hard thrusts that had me falling face-first onto the bed, screaming into the mattress. It was over as quickly as it had begun; as though satisfied I was being used to the max. He pulled out of my bottom and returned to my pussy instead. A minute later, though, he repeated the process, switching back and forth between bottom and pussy like a kid energetically dunking a cookie in milk.  
  
“You _should_ use her mouth,” Joe advised, and I heard the nasty leer in his voice. “Go ahead; I’ve got _these_ two holes covered.”  
  
Mommy arched an eyebrow, then slowly smirked. She set her legs down and rose from the chair, coming to stand before me. Because I was laying and she, standing tall, I got a full view of her pubic hair; a firsthand experience when she grabbed the back of my head and forced my face into the thatch.  
  
I nuzzled and rubbed best I could, happy as a cat surrounded by my Mommy’s familiar scent and shape and feel. A minute later she brought a foot up onto the mattress, gripping the headboard for balance, opening herself up for me. 

It wasn’t the best angle, but I strained my neck and made the most of it, lapping her tangy slit like a kitten sipping cream. I knew exactly how to please her; knew to build her up slowly so I could bring her crashing down.

It was distracting as all get-out, though, as my pussy and bottom were being switched between what felt like every other thrust; like the novelty of having full access to someone’s two playgrounds, of having ultimate control over someone who absolutely _could not_ say no, was too much for eager Joe to resist. 

My bottom needed more lube; the entrance was dry and sore, and I was sure he must feel it and know, but he did nothing to help. My dripping princess parts made the transition a little easier, but…

Mommy gripped a handful of my hair and pulled me into her cunt, grinding my face, soaking my cheeks and jaw with her juices. I struggled to keep up, sucking her clit in earnest rather than just licking and flicking. Though the blood rushed too hard in my ears to hear properly, I knew she was moaning. All three of us were; a discordant song of wails. 

When Joe’s thumb found my clittie, though, rubbing it vigorously as he pounded me, I shivered and spasmed all over, wanting to roll away from -- or perhaps roll into -- the intense sparks of pleasure. Either way I was denied -- he held my hips tightly, utterly in control of every move I made.

His movements were stuttering. He stopped alternating between my holes and stayed put in my pussy, so I knew he must be close. He switched his thumb out for the meat of his palm, grinding my clittie in quick, bursting pulses, and I understood: he wanted us to come together.

I transferred this wish onto Mommy, sucking and flicking at her clitie, soaking my face as I nuzzled back and forth, her hands tight in my hair. I hummed and whimpered, allowing the vibrations of my lips to rock her. But it was my scream of an orgasm that did it; that had her coming, squirting all over my face, wailing as she folded in half over the top of me.

We all crashed down, cresting a peak that was hot and wet and throbbing all over; until all the world was us, our connection fritzing like a live-wire.  
  
We collapsed in a puddle of sweat and cum, twitching occasionally; legs tangled, bodies fever-hot. Mommy was the first to move, slipping off the bed and fixing her clothes, glancing in her vanity mirror to pat her hair into place.  
  
Joe was on top of me, squishing me into Mommy’s bed. I struggled feebly to escape him, but it was like I’d lost all the strength in my body. I could only wiggle back and forth while he pressed down.  
  
That was, until Mommy again drew the Smith & Wesson from her waistband and fixed Joe with her best customer-service smile. “That’ll be all, Joseph,” she said pleasantly. “Time to get the fuck out of my house before I pull the trigger. Oh, and if I ever hear of you even breathing in my daughter’s direction again, just remember: I know where you live.”  
  
Joe froze in disbelief, staring at my mother in naked shock. “I’m… sorry?” he asked, needing clarification.  
  
“You will be,” she replied, just as calm as ever.  
  
He started to grow agitated. “You can’t just-- you wouldn’t--!”  
  
“Can’t I? Wouldn’t I?”  
  
Evidently, he thought it best not to test her. Scrabbling off of me, zipping his pants back up, he booked it down the hallway. We heard him fumbling with the locks for a good minute before he managed to get the door open. It was another minute until we heard his Carolla tearing down the driveway. I bet he was glad he’d left his shoes on.  
  
Mommy looked to me, to where I lay still, sprawled over her bed. I’d been thoroughly abused, used, humiliated, and degraded today, and nearly all on her command. My cunt dripped the seed of a man I barely knew, and my bottom was bruised from his spanks. I could do nothing but lie low as a dog and watch her. If this didn’t prove my loyalty, nothing would.  
  
“Oh, Annabelle,” Mommy sighed, coming close. Her hand touched my bottom, rubbing soothing circles over the aching flesh. “I know that was hard. But I had to teach you a lesson, don’t you understand? No men are allowed in Mommy’s house for a reason. Mommy has to do mean things sometimes, so you can learn your lesson while you're still young."  
  
Her hand slid between my legs, pressing a thumb into my pussy, feeling the slippery layer of the cum that would hopefully impregnate me. “Now you know that Mommy always knows best, and to always do as she says.”  
  
“Yes, Mommy,” I agreed, my voice barely a tearful whisper. I spread my legs wide and gave myself over to anything she wanted to do to me.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys; I made a blog for my erotica [here,](https://menagerie-scribblings.tumblr.com/) if you want to know how to make requests, etc.


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